Who Defines Us? Liberation, Identity, and the Fight for Authenticity
As an autistic trans woman living in the heart of the American empire, my existence is shaped by a duality of constant threat and relentless resistance. Every facet of my identity—autistic, trans, and existing within a historically colonised heritage—intersects with systems designed to erase, marginalise, or reconfigure me into something more palatable to the status quo. From the AutismCARES Act funneling millions into harmful “cures” movements to a barrage of anti-trans legislation aimed at criminalising my right to exist, the forces arrayed against my identity are vast and deeply entrenched.
This is not unique to me; it reflects a broader societal issue. Who defines us, and what does that mean for liberation? Is it enough to simply survive under the crushing weight of systemic oppression, or must liberation be about more than mere survival? What does true liberation look like, and how can we build alternatives to the oppressive systems that govern our lives?
These questions haunt the margins of every struggle for justice. In observing liberation movements—whether the Panthers’ efforts to reclaim Black identity from the US government’s framing, the socialist vision of a complete Martin Luther King Jr., or Indigenous Marxist movements reclaiming land and sovereignty—I see a consistent theme: a battle not just for material freedom but for the right to self-define. Yet, even as these movements seek liberation, they often face contradictions, being defined externally by the dominant culture or replicating exclusionary norms within their frameworks.
Within the Global North, the contradictions of liberation become especially stark. There is a fixation on perfection—on leaders who must embody flawless ideologies and movements that cannot stumble. There is a lack of cohesive neurodivergent and trans liberation movements that centre collective solidarity rather than fragmented, individualistic advocacy. And there is the persistent dominance of eurocentric framings, which prize individualism and respectability politics over radical transformation.
Today’s article seeks to dive deeply into these tensions and contradictions, examining how we might define liberation on our own terms. How can we, as autistic and trans people, build systems and cultures that go beyond survival and actively challenge the status quo? How do we ensure that our liberation is authentic, inclusive, and forward-looking? The answers lie in rethinking not only who defines us but also how we define ourselves.
Lessons from Historical Liberation Movements
Throughout history, liberation movements have emerged as a response to systemic oppression, each rooted in the unique struggles of its people. Yet, these movements share common challenges: the necessity of community-building, the importance of cultural foundations, and the relentless efforts of external systems to define and delegitimise them. From the Black Liberation Movement in the United States to Indigenous Marxist movements globally, the fight for self-definition is as critical as the fight for material freedom.
Black Liberation Movements: Community, Culture, and Resistance
The Black Panther Party serves as a powerful example of community-building as a cornerstone of liberation. Emerging in the 1960s amidst the systemic violence of segregation and state repression, the Panthers understood that self-reliance and solidarity were vital for survival. Their Free Breakfast for Children Programme exemplified this ethos—providing nourishment to unsupported Black communities whilst embodying the movement's rejection of dependence on oppressive systems.
The U.S. government viewed the breakfast programmes not as acts of charity but as existential threats. Feeding hungry children challenged the narrative that Black communities were incapable of self-sufficiency. By addressing immediate material needs whilst fostering dignity and solidarity, the Panthers exposed the state’s neglect and its role in perpetuating inequality. In response, the government deployed the full force of its machinery—FBI infiltration, propaganda campaigns, and outright violence—to dismantle the Panthers’ efforts. This reaction speaks volumes about the transformative power of community-driven liberation.
On the cultural front, thinkers like Marimba Ani have argued for the necessity of reclaiming and centring cultural identity in liberation. In Yurugu: An African-Centered Critique of European Cultural Thought and Behavior, Ani critiques the disconnection and individualism of Western frameworks, arguing that true liberation requires not only material freedom but also cultural wholeness. Whilst Ani’s framework has limitations, particularly its heteronormative undertones, her emphasis on cultural autonomy is invaluable. Without a cultural foundation, movements risk becoming hollow, susceptible to co-optation or collapse under external pressure.
Indigenous American Struggles: Survival, Sovereignty, and Self-Determination
The struggle of Indigenous Americans is arguably one of the longest and most enduring liberation movements in history. From the moment of European colonisation, Indigenous peoples across the Americas have fought to protect their lands, cultures, and sovereignty against relentless settler-colonial violence and legal trickery. Their fight is not only a material one—over land, water, and resources—but also a cultural and existential struggle to maintain their identities in the face of systemic erasure.
The policies of settler-colonial states like the United States have aimed to eliminate Indigenous people both physically and culturally. The Trail of Tears, residential schools, and forced sterilisation programmes were not isolated acts of violence but components of a deliberate strategy to destroy Indigenous communities and assimilate them into the dominant settler culture. Despite this, Indigenous resistance has persisted, adapting and evolving across centuries.
Movements like the American Indian Movement (AIM) in the 1960s and 70s emerged as critical voices in the fight for Indigenous rights. Inspired in part by the civil rights and Black liberation struggles, AIM sought to reclaim sovereignty and address systemic injustices like land theft, police brutality, and cultural genocide. Their occupation of Alcatraz Island in 1969, the Trail of Broken Treaties in 1972, and the Wounded Knee standoff in 1973 were not only acts of resistance but declarations of sovereignty. These actions forced the U.S. government to confront its ongoing violations of treaties and human rights, even as it sought to delegitimise the movement through surveillance, infiltration, and violence.
Cultural preservation has been central to Indigenous resistance. Whilst movements like AIM fought on the political front, countless Indigenous communities have worked to revitalise their languages, ceremonies, and traditions, countering centuries of cultural suppression. For Indigenous Americans, liberation is inseparable from cultural survival—reclaiming the spiritual and social practices that tie them to their ancestors and lands.
However, the fight is far from over. Contemporary struggles like the resistance to the Dakota Access Pipeline at Standing Rock demonstrate the enduring fight for land and sovereignty in the face of corporate and state interests. These movements remind us that the fight for liberation is ongoing, rooted in the land but also in the spirit and identity of the people.
Indigenous Marxist Movements: Land, Autonomy, and Resistance
Globally, Indigenous Marxist movements have emphasised land, community, and autonomy as central to liberation. These movements understand that land is not just a resource but the lifeblood of culture and identity. The connection between people and land provides a foundation for resistance, offering both material sustenance and a deep cultural anchor.
The history of socialist governments in the Global South offers a sobering lesson in the challenges of systemic change. Time and again, socialists have been democratically elected, only to face swift and brutal interventions by American foreign intelligence services. From the coup against Salvador Allende in Chile to the overthrow of Patrice Lumumba in the Congo, the pattern is clear: movements that threaten the global capitalist order are met with overwhelming force. These interventions are not isolated incidents but part of a broader strategy to maintain the status quo of global capitalism.
Yet, Indigenous Marxist movements have shown remarkable resilience, often because of their cultural foundations. These movements embed liberation in a shared sense of identity, history, and purpose, creating a collective strength that can withstand external pressures. This cultural grounding is essential for resisting the subversive tactics of dominant systems, which seek to erode solidarity and co-opt movements from within.
Shared Theme: The Struggle for Self-Definition
A common thread across these movements is the external system’s relentless effort to define them as illegitimate or dangerous. The U.S. government framed the Panthers as violent extremists, a label used to justify their destruction. Similarly, socialist leaders and Indigenous movements are painted as authoritarian or destabilising forces, regardless of their democratic mandates or community support. These narratives serve to delegitimise liberation movements, portraying them as threats rather than responses to systemic oppression.
This struggle for self-definition underscores the importance of cultural autonomy. Without a clear, shared identity, movements become vulnerable to the framing imposed by external forces. The Panthers, Indigenous Marxists, and thinkers like Ani teach us that liberation is not just about dismantling systems of oppression but about building systems and cultures that sustain and empower communities in the face of constant pressure.
By learning from these movements, we can better understand the necessity of cultural grounding and collective action in any fight for liberation. Whether for Black communities in the U.S., Indigenous peoples worldwide, or marginalised identities within the Global North, the lessons are clear: liberation is as much about reclaiming who we are as it is about resisting who we are told to be.
The Current Landscape for Neurodivergent and Trans People
Living in California, arguably the most tolerant state in the United States, offers a unique vantage point from which to consider the precarious state of liberation for neurodivergent and trans people. Here, there is legal recognition of trans rights, protections for neurodivergent students, and at least a nominal commitment to inclusion. Yet even in California, these rights are fragile, constantly under threat from cultural and political backlash. The situation is even grimmer across much of the United States, where states openly legislate hostility toward trans and neurodivergent individuals. Anti-trans laws proliferate, targeting healthcare access, public participation, and basic existence. Meanwhile, systemic ableism marginalises autistic people, reducing them to objects of pity or targets for eradication. Globally, my identity and views could easily lead to imprisonment—or worse. In places like Russia and China, where state control over identity is absolute, the very act of expressing trans pride or advocating for neurodivergent acceptance would be a dangerous, and likely criminal, act. This stark reality underscores the urgent need for a cohesive liberation movement that challenges these forces of oppression on a systemic level, rather than piecemeal or superficially.
The current landscape for neurodivergent and trans people is disjointed and fragmented, lacking the unity seen in historical liberation movements. Advocacy in these spaces often centres around individual “influencers” or “content creators,” who are more focused on building “personal brands” than fostering collective solidarity. Social media amplifies this fragmentation, encouraging performative activism over meaningful, sustained action. Whilst some “influencers” bring valuable visibility to these issues, the individualism inherent in this model undermines the possibility of a broader, systemic response. Unlike the Black Panthers or Indigenous Marxist movements, there is little effort to establish a shared cultural foundation for neurodivergent or trans identities. Without this cultural framing, it becomes difficult to build a sense of collective purpose or solidarity, leaving these movements vulnerable to external pressures and internal fractures.
Mainstream narratives further exacerbate this fragmentation through erasure and vilification. For autistic individuals, public discourse remains fixated on “curing” or eliminating autism, often framing it as a societal burden rather than a legitimate neurotype. Policies like the AutismCARES Act perpetuate this harmful view by funnelling resources into “cures” movements and commercial “therapies” rather than support systems that enable autistic people to thrive. Trans people face an even more explicit form of hostility. Across the United States, legislative efforts to restrict healthcare access, participation in public life, and even self-identification are part of an escalating war against trans existence. The demonisation of trans people as threats to societal norms mirrors the way autistic individuals are pathologised, creating a shared struggle against systems that refuse to recognise the full humanity of either group.
These challenges are compounded by the eurocentric and individualistic framing that dominates much current advocacy. Rather than challenging oppressive systems, many neurodivergent and trans movements focus on gaining inclusion within those systems, relying on respectability politics to prove their “worthiness.” This approach often demands assimilation rather than celebrating or preserving the unique aspects of these identities. The focus on individual success stories and incremental reforms contrasts sharply with the radical aims of historical liberation movements, which sought not just inclusion but the dismantling of oppressive structures altogether. Without a shift toward collective action and systemic change, neurodivergent and trans advocacy risks being co-opted or rendered ineffective, leaving the root causes of oppression unaddressed.
In this fractured and hostile landscape, the need for a unified cultural and political movement for neurodivergent and trans liberation is undeniable. Drawing on lessons from past liberation struggles, such a movement must prioritise cultural framing, community solidarity, and systemic change over individual gains or superficial inclusion. Only then can we build a foundation strong enough to withstand the external pressures of the status quo and chart a path toward true liberation.
The Problem with Perfection in the Global North
The demand for perfection, particularly in the Global North, has become a pervasive obstacle to meaningful progress in liberation movements. The expectation that leaders must embody flawless ideologies, untarnished personal histories, and unerring decision-making not only sets impossible standards but also undermines the collective strength of these movements. This obsession with perfection often excludes many potential contributors whose imperfections or perceived missteps are weaponised against them, reducing the pool of voices and perspectives that could otherwise enrich and strengthen the cause. Leaders, as humans, are inherently imperfect. To demand perfection is to guarantee disappointment, disillusionment, and the eventual fracturing of movements that need unity most.
The myth of the perfect leader reflects an individualistic mindset that places undue emphasis on a single figure, often leading to cults of personality and the formation of rigid in-groups and out-groups. Movements consumed by debates over who is “pure” or ideal enough to lead lose sight of their collective purpose, turning inward instead of focusing on dismantling oppressive systems. This dynamic prioritises loyalty to a leader over solidarity within the movement, creating divisions that fracture the collective. Such movements are often short-lived, as they become overly dependent on the perceived perfection or charisma of a single individual. When that leader inevitably falters, steps away, or dies, the movement often collapses in their absence, having failed to cultivate a sustainable, shared framework for leadership and progress. In the digital age, this problem is exacerbated by social media, where quick, unforgiving judgments foster in-group loyalty and out-group exclusion, leaving little room for nuance, growth, or meaningful coalition-building.
This fixation on perfection also discourages participation from those who fear their imperfections will be scrutinised or exploited. People who could contribute meaningfully to movements may instead choose to remain silent, unwilling to risk the backlash that often accompanies any public misstep. This loss is particularly damaging in spaces where marginalised voices—those with the most to gain and the most to teach—are already underrepresented. Perfectionism not only weakens movements but also perpetuates a culture of exclusion that mirrors the systems of oppression these movements seek to dismantle.
Embracing imperfection, on the other hand, can be a source of strength. Imperfections humanise leaders, making them more relatable and accessible to those they represent. They also create opportunities for growth, as mistakes and challenges often lead to deeper understanding and stronger, more resilient strategies. When movements accept imperfection as a natural part of leadership and activism, they foster an environment of humility, collaboration, and adaptability. These qualities are essential for navigating the complex, often unpredictable realities of fighting for systemic change.
It is important, however, to distinguish between embracing imperfection and excusing harm. Accountability remains a critical component of any liberation movement, ensuring that leaders are held responsible for their actions and their impact on the community. The distinction lies in framing accountability as a process of growth and repair rather than as grounds for immediate dismissal or ostracisation. Leaders must be given the opportunity to learn from their mistakes, provided those mistakes are addressed in good faith and with a commitment to doing better. This approach balances the need for accountability with the recognition that no one is infallible.
The demand for perfect leaders reflects a deeper issue within the Global North: a cultural obsession with binaries—good and bad, right and wrong, pure and impure. This binary thinking is particularly entrenched in discussions of gender and sexuality, where leaders who challenge traditional norms are scrutinised not just for their policies or actions, but for their very identities. The media often latches onto perceived imperfections in these areas, sensationalising controversies to delegitimise leaders and movements. For example, consider the case of a trans congresswoman who supports Israel and receives funding from AIPAC. Is this a deal-breaker for her leadership within progressive circles? The binary framing of her position forces the question into extremes, ignoring the complexities of her political choices, identity, and broader impact.
This binary approach leaves little room for the messiness and nuance of real-world politics or the iterative nature of liberation. Consider the case of Sarah McBride, a trailblazing trans leader whose campaign has received support from AIPAC, sparking debate about whether this compromises her commitment to progressive values. Critics argue that such alliances undermine liberation movements, whilst others contend that the realities of political systems often require difficult compromises. The argument often raised is that one must first get to Congress to make a difference—and then work to keep the seat to effect lasting change. This tension reflects the complexities of navigating systems designed to resist transformative politics, highlighting why the myth of perfection is so damaging.
By rejecting this myth, movements can focus on the collective power of diverse, imperfect individuals working toward shared goals. This shift recognises that no single leader can embody every ideal or satisfy every constituency, particularly when operating within an entrenched political system that demands concessions. Embracing this complexity allows for broader participation and more resilient strategies, fostering a culture of solidarity capable of navigating internal disagreements and withstanding external pressures. Ultimately, this approach ensures movements remain focused on systemic change rather than individual shortcomings, acknowledging that liberation is an iterative process requiring both principled action and pragmatic navigation of existing power structures.
In liberation movements, the pursuit of perfection is not only unattainable but counterproductive. It shifts focus away from dismantling systems of oppression and instead turns energy inward, fostering division and disarray. The debate over compromises and contradictions, like those seen in Sarah McBride’s campaign funding, illustrates how quickly movements can become bogged down in the perceived flaws of individuals rather than advancing collective goals. Progress, however, thrives on imperfection. It acknowledges the humanity of leaders and participants alike, understanding that liberation is not about crafting flawless individuals but about building systems and communities that value authenticity, accountability, and collective strength. By letting go of the myth of the perfect leader, movements can embrace the messy, complex work of systemic change, recognising that liberation is an imperfect but ultimately transformative process.
Identity, Privilege, and Solidarity
As an autistic trans woman of West Highland genetic origin living in the United States, my identity often places me at the intersection of privilege and marginalisation. My light skin and northern European heritage might, to some, disqualify me from fully understanding the complexities of liberation struggles. Yet my identity is deeply tied to histories of colonialism and resistance that resonate with many global liberation movements. Scotland’s colonial history, for instance, often goes unrecognised, overshadowed by its role within the British Empire. However, Scotland itself was subjected to cultural erasure, economic exploitation, and the suppression of Gaelic language and traditions. The Highland Clearances (aka., genocide), forced migrations, and the ongoing denial of independence by the British Crown reveal a long-standing struggle for self-determination that parallels other colonised peoples’ fights for liberation.
At the same time, my experience as an autistic and trans individual places additional targets on my back, regardless of the privileges afforded by my light skin and eyes. Autistic people are pathologised and marginalised, whilst trans individuals face outright vilification and legislative attacks. These intersecting identities mean that I am seen as a threat to the status quo on multiple fronts. Whilst my skin tone might shield me from certain forms of racial discrimination, it cannot protect me from systemic ableism or transphobia. These overlapping layers of oppression underscore the need for solidarity that transcends surface-level identities and appearance.
True solidarity must go beyond appearances to address systemic oppression at all levels. It requires recognising how privilege operates without reducing individuals to those privileges alone. Liberation is not a zero-sum game; acknowledging differences in privilege and oppression allows movements to build bridges rather than walls. My experiences have taught me that solidarity must embrace the full complexity of identity, recognising that struggles for liberation are interconnected. Just as Scotland’s history of resistance echoes the fights of other colonised peoples, my journey as an autistic trans woman connects me to a broader tapestry of liberation struggles, each grappling with systems that seek to define and divide.
In this context, solidarity means rejecting simplistic assumptions about identity and focusing on dismantling the systems that oppress us all. By addressing oppression at its roots, rather than fixating on appearances or superficial divisions, we can build a movement that is inclusive, authentic, and powerful enough to achieve real change. Only by understanding and valuing the complexity of our shared humanity can we move toward true liberation.
Building Cultural Foundations for Liberation
Building cultural foundations is essential for any liberation movement, and thinkers like Mwalimu Baruti and Marimba Ani provide valuable insights into the importance of cultural autonomy and self-definition. Their works emphasise the need to reclaim identity and culture from external forces, a lesson that can profoundly inspire trans and neurodivergent communities. Baruti’s focus on cultural integrity and Ani’s critique of Western individualism in Yurugu resonate deeply with the struggles faced by marginalised groups navigating systems designed to erase or assimilate them. For autistic and trans individuals, the call to create spaces and frameworks that honour their unique experiences is both urgent and necessary.
However, engaging with these thinkers requires a critical lens. Both Baruti and Ani operate within frameworks that are often heteronormative and exclusive, limiting their applicability to more diverse identities. Baruti, for instance, critiques Western influences on gender and sexuality in ways that can alienate trans and queer people, whilst Ani’s work, though expansive, often assumes a binary understanding of identity. These limitations, though significant, do not negate the broader value of their insights. By critically engaging with their ideas, it’s possible to extract principles of cultural autonomy and self-definition while rejecting the aspects that exclude or marginalise. This approach allows for the development of a liberation framework that is inclusive and adaptable, embracing the diversity within trans and neurodivergent communities.
What is glaringly absent in much of current trans and neurodivergent advocacy is this cultural dimension. Advocacy often focuses on survival—securing basic rights, fighting for inclusion, and resisting systemic oppression—but stops short of envisioning and sustaining a shared culture that reflects and celebrates these identities. For trans and autistic people, culture is not just a by-product of their existence but a tool for liberation. The ways they communicate, create, and connect are deeply tied to their identities and deserve recognition as vital components of a thriving community.
Moving beyond survival requires a shift in focus: from merely fighting for a seat at the table to building entirely new spaces where trans and neurodivergent identities are celebrated and nurtured. This means fostering a culture that not only protects these identities but also allows them to flourish. By learning from thinkers like Baruti and Ani, while acknowledging their limitations, trans and neurodivergent communities can begin to craft cultural foundations that empower and unite, creating a movement grounded in authenticity, resilience, and a shared vision for the future. True liberation lies not only in resisting erasure but in creating something enduring that honours the full humanity of all its members.
Organising Alternatives to the Status Quo
Organising alternatives to the status quo for neurodivergent and trans people requires a radical rethinking of how movements are structured and sustained. To challenge the oppressive systems that marginalise these communities, liberation movements must centre core principles of self-definition, collective action, mutual aid, and cultural preservation. These principles provide a foundation for movements that are inclusive, resilient, and capable of addressing the unique needs of their members. Cultural preservation, for instance, can take on a matristic dimension—honouring collaborative, nurturing, and non-hierarchical approaches to community-building that reflect the values and lived experiences of many trans and neurodivergent people.
Practical steps to realise these principles include building networks of support that go beyond digital spaces, recognising that not everyone can effectively engage through platforms like Zoom or Discord. Neurodivergent individuals, in particular, may find these formats overwhelming or inaccessible. Creating inclusive spaces requires acknowledging and addressing such barriers, ensuring that advocacy and support are available in diverse, adaptable formats. Education and advocacy must also centre the most marginalised, amplifying the voices of those who often go unheard within broader movements. By prioritising accessibility, cultural relevance, and grassroots connection, these networks can become powerful tools for both survival and growth.
A critical element of these alternatives is the rejection of the saviour model of leadership in favour of collective leadership. Movements that depend on a single, “perfect” leader are inherently fragile, vulnerable to collapse when that leader falters or departs. Collective leadership distributes responsibility, empowering individuals within the movement to contribute according to their strengths and capacities. This approach not only fosters resilience but also reflects the interconnected nature of trans and neurodivergent communities, where shared experiences and mutual support are often central to survival.
Accountability within this model is key, but it must be framed as an opportunity for growth rather than as grounds for exclusion. Leaders and participants alike must be allowed to make mistakes and learn from them, with the understanding that imperfection is a natural and inevitable part of the liberation process. By embracing imperfection as a source of strength, movements can create a culture of humility and adaptability, fostering collaboration and innovation rather than division.
Ultimately, organising alternatives to the status quo means crafting movements that reflect the values and needs of neurodivergent and trans communities, rather than conforming to the frameworks imposed by dominant systems. It requires a commitment to building something new—spaces that are accessible, inclusive, and deeply rooted in the cultural and social realities of those they serve. By prioritising collective leadership, mutual aid, and cultural preservation, these movements can chart a path toward liberation that is sustainable, transformative, and authentically their own.
Final thoughts …
Liberation is, at its core, about more than mere survival. It is about building systems and communities where everyone can thrive, free from the oppressive structures that seek to divide and erase us. For neurodivergent and trans people, this means moving beyond fragmented advocacy and shallow attempts at inclusion to create a unified movement that honours the complexity and humanity of all its members. True liberation demands a shift from individual gains to collective growth, where the focus is on crafting a world that celebrates our unique identities and shared struggles.
To achieve this, we must reject the myth of perfection that so often stifles progress, as well as the superficial solidarity that prioritises optics over action. Movements that centre authenticity, accountability, and inclusivity are stronger, more resilient, and more capable of driving lasting change. By embracing imperfection and recognising the value of diverse voices, we can build the cultural and political foundations needed to challenge the status quo.
Liberation begins when we define ourselves—not according to the narratives imposed upon us, but on our own terms. It flourishes when we dare to imagine and create a future that reflects our values and aspirations. Together, as imperfect but committed individuals, we have the power to transform our communities and our world. The journey is not easy, nor is it straightforward, but it is ours to take. Let us walk it together, building a future rooted in authenticity, solidarity, and the collective pursuit of liberation.